But it's Dead Week, then Final's Week. I just want to let you all know of my pending return...
I'm coming for you...
So, if you're like me and grew up all sorts of angsty while listening to Nirvana loudly in your bedroom planning your escape from your upstairs bedroom window because your parents didn't 'get' you, then this is for you.
I present to you, The Polyphonic Spree covering Lithium.
But only because I don't post. So, a quick update, then a question for all two of you (three on a good day) that read this blog thing.
First of all, school is school. I should be graduating in December, assuming that I can pass all of my classes and the stupid Computer Literacy tests that USU requires. My classes are pretty cool, at least if you're a history nerd like myself.
Work is going well. I'm really enjoying working at a place where people straight up crap themselves a bit less. The people I work with are rad-tastic, but that's not taking anything away from those poor souls who(m?) I left behind.
Baby T. is getting big. She likes to talk and thinks that she can walk. C. has taught her the names of her first Disney princesses.
For those who care, the beard is coming back. I'm a fan. Plus, now that I work somewhere that I can dress up for Halloween, I can incorporate the beard into a costume. Excellent.
So, now for something that has been on my mind a lot lately. Really, it's a question to all of you. I'm talking about "theTwitter." Basically, I am pondering to tweet or not to tweet. One of the reasons that I am thinking about it is because, while I can't always post to this blog, it feels like I can always find time to update my status on theFacebook. From what I understand, theTwitter is pretty much just theFacebook statuses. Statusi. Whatever.
So, now I turn it over to you, and I do want your feedback. Do I Tweet? Would you care? Would anybody? What say you?
Lady in the Water is 110 minutes of my life that I'm never getting back.
Good thing I watched it on my day off.
Curse you, M. Night Shyamalan.
If you haven't seen it, don't. Those of you that have, I just need to say two words: grass wolf.
In conclusion, this movie sucked. The only redeeming quality was that I got to watch my wife play on the floor with my little girl while this piece of trash was playing. Oh, also, we didn't pay for it. So there's that.
For those of you who have been living under a rock/don't think that music is the most important thing in the world/ might have what some people would consider "a life"/ don't think that spending $6,000 on a guitar is a worthwhile investment, this blog may not mean much.
Les Paul died yesterday.
Why is Les Paul important? Well, he not only invented one of the first electric guitars, but he helped pioneer multi-track recording. In other words, he changed the way that we listen to music.
Now, I could write my own tribute but I won't do that. First off, I never knew the dude, and second, it would be like one of a billion.
But I will share this little tidbit.
When I got back from Iraq, there were two things that I wanted to get myself as a "thanks for serving your country and good job of not blowing yourself up" present. The first was a vehicle. The second, was a new guitar. It took me all of about 2 seconds to decide that I wanted a Les Paul. The sound is awesome, they're durable, and most importantly, they are dead sexy.
I never regretted the decision. I love that guitar. More than any other one I own. If I was strapped for cash, I could sell all my other guitars, possibly my lappy, too. But if it came down to selling that one, I would be in line at the plasma center to donate. I would begin fighting bums for spare change. But that guitar would stay mine forever.
And maybe that's the best sort of tribute to a great man that one could give.
Of course you did. But there's just a few items of housekeeping that I need to take care of.
First off, yes, I enjoyed my trip to the Oregon coast. All except for the part where pretty much the entire family got sick. Me? I decided to wait until we were driving home to puke my ever loving guts out. I win the award for being able to expel my stomach contents into a grocery bag while driving 75+ mph down the highway while steering with my knees, scaring the tar out of my wife, and making my baby girl wonder what the strange noises her dad is making mean.
Second, I'm done. No, not with the blog, with the job. I had been employed at a residential treatment facility for the past three years. It worked great with my school schedule. I had seniority and all that jazz. But it wasn't what I wanted to do with life. In fact, it made me hate people. But now I work at the Merrill-Cazier Library on USU campus. Since I ultimately want to get my Master's of Library Science and work at an academic library, this job is more along my career goals. Pay is the same here as the last job, and the benefits kick more benefit butt than any benefits I've ever had before.
Lastly, what I've learned from my time off. Some days I really don't want to blog. Some days, I want to blog a whole lot. So, that's what I'm going to do. No more self imposed 10:00 deadlines. If I don't want to blog one day, I won't force something out. If I have a million different things to post, I'll do that. I especially like this plan with all the things that are going to be going on. I just started a new job. I take the GRE on the 18th. School starts again on the 24th. I have to apply to Grad Schools all semester long. There may be some days where blogging isn't a real possibility. But I'll do what I can to keep the masses happy, because that's who I am.
This week, I present to you 100% pure awesomeness. There isn't much that I can say about today's band that their Wikipedia page won't. So check it out. Then, realize that the lead singer played Alex in Everything is Illuminated. That must be why he is such a premium dancer. Then, realize that his mustache is 100% real. That's right, not a fake. Then realize that they wrote an entire song based on wearing a certain color. That is what being a gypsy punk band is all about, I guess. So, I present to you Wonderlust King by Gogol Bordello.
Oh, and before I forget, we're taking off next week to Washington/Oregon, so you all get a break from the stupidity that I post. See you all in August, people!
Or something. Anyway, the reason behind this post is that our car was finally done. So we had to drive up to Preston to pick it up. It's good to have our car back.
But, on to other news.
For those of you who don't know, I am looking at Graduate school so that I can get my Master's of Library Science. Pretty much, I want to work in the archives at a university somewhere.
You know, far away from people who crap themselves on a daily basis.
Well, I found a job posted at USU working at the library there. They wanted someone with, among other awesome qualities, supervisory experience. Which is nice because I've been a Supervisor at my current job for the last two and a half years. The pay was similar to my current job. This job had awesome benefits. It was going to work around my school schedule. And more importantly, it was in the field that i wanted to go into.
Plus, people in libraries tend to crap themselves less often.
Well, this afternoon, I got a call offering me the job. It took me all of about two seconds to accept. So, I'm on my way out at the group home. And finally on to something better. I'm not a lifer!
If you can't tell, I'm fairly excited.
Anyway, that's about it. Tomorrow will be the usual Music Video Friday. Plus, it's Pioneer Day here in Utah. Fireworks suck. That is all.
So, the other day on USUPhilosophy.com they asked an interesting question. Basically, if you could have lunch with one philosopher, who would it be? Then they created a poll where you could chose from Plato, Kant, Wittgenstein, Heidegger, or Nietzche.
I chose Kant.
But this brought to mind a serious question. Remembering that although I would consider myself a philosophy nerd, but an even bigger history nerd, I asked myself a reformed question. If I could have lunch with any U.S. President, who would it be?
My answer? Thomas Jefferson. For a few reasons. First, the whole 'Author of the Declaration of Independence' thing. Second, I need to ask him about the whole 'all men are created equal' phrase. Did it tear him apart to even write that? I mean, the dude owned slaves. And I'm not talking just a few around the house. He was a tobacco plantation owner. That's a lot of slaves. Yet he said that all men were created equal.
But I'm a nerd like that.
So, now I turn the question over to you, oh three readers of mine. Which U.S. President would you most like to have lunch with. I'd create a poll, but it seems silly to have a poll with 44 different responses. I'll repeat, make all the obvious assumptions: that they're not dead, that you would be able to communicate, that the food and service will all be good, etc. Who would you eat with? Feel free to leave your answer in the comments.
Today is a very exciting day at the thePatrick household. No, I didn't get a new job *crosses fingers*. No, our car isn't yet out of the shop, although they have started the repairs.
Today, C. is going to go and get her hair cut.
And for those of you who don't know, this is a momentous occasion in our lives. Not because she never cuts her hair. She does. But when she says haircut, she means style change. And it is a process. It all starts out by her deciding that she needs a haircut. Then, she has to spend anywhere from minutes to days perusing the interwebs to find the hairstyle that she likes so that she can print it off and bring it to the person cutting her hair.
But this time, there was a problem.
Both of our printers were out of ink. But the ever resourceful C. came up with a solution. She saved the pictures to her computer, then found a way for her to text them to herself, so that they can be on her phone and she can show the hairstylist that way.
But all this fuss got me to thinking about the last time I changed my hairstyle. The answer was easy. 1996. Other than when I went to basic training/Iraq and the first few months of my mission, I have had the same hairstyle since I was a freshman in high school. And I have a very simple explanation for that.
I'm a guy.
See, girls seem to always need to reinvent themselves, to find the next greatest hairstyle. That way they can show the world how awesome and trend setting they can be. Guys on the other hand, well, we find a hairstyle that works for us, and we stick with it. I've had the same style for over 13 years. My dad has had the same haircut for all 27 years that I've been around, and longer judging by pictures I've seen. In fact, there are only two reasons that I can think of that guys change their haircut, at least in general. They either a) grow it out and look shaggy or b) lose their hair and trim it short.
Earth shattering, I know, but hey, this is what I do.
So C. will come home this afternoon with a new, awesome, gorgeous haircut. I, on the other hand, will dwell in my boring, stale-haired existence, just waiting for the next time that my hair gets too long and bugs my ears, so that I can take the clippers to it myself. Because I am what I am.
One of the things that I try to do, at least in my own little way, is try to make whatever few readers I have better people.
Seriously. I'll give you time to stop laughing.
Whether it's through expanding your musical tastes every Friday, or reminding you of some of the awesomeness that is on television (Wipeout, The Mighty Boosh), or just helping you see what insurance company is ridiculous (*cough cough* Allstate *cough cough*). I am here for you.
So, in my daily perusings of the interwebs, I came upon this report. There are a few things I like about this. First, it's the fact that UPI.com's slogan is "100 Years of Journalistic Excellence." I like to think that they're talking about a print version somewhere, and not that they believe they've been on the internet since 1909. Second, I like the comment by Mark at the bottom of the page. I like that he uses the phrase "business twits." I also like that he invites people to die in a fire.
So happy!
But, upon looking at the foods there, the ones that stuck out to me were ribs and wings. Of couse, they are only on the list because people think they're a good idea to eat while driving, but who are these people? Who in their right mind goes to a restaurant, one where they serve ribs, and says, "You know what, I'll take mine to go. The 15 minutes it takes me to eat these here and clean up just aren't worth the 15 minutes of driving time I'll lose."
Who are these rib eating drivers? Who is selling ribs from their drive through window? And am I legally allowed to run them off the road with my own car if I see them?
I have always loved this video. I was first introduced to it by Shay over in Iraq. He also, more or less, introduced me to Bright Eyes. When we first got back to the states he, Felt, Sayre, Norte and I all went to see Bright Eyes (along with Sons and Daughters, for those of you keeping score at home). Anyway, I have always loved the simplicity of this video, as well as being amazing that someone could sync writing (backwards, no less) with their own music. That having been said, enjoy Easy/Lucky/Free by Bright Eyes. Happy Weekend!
Now, for those of you who are completely scared of the random merman looking seaweed hair having individual to left, consider your daily checkup of this blog finished. Seriously, move along. Nothing to read here.
Those of you, however, who recognize Old Gregg from the television series "The Mighty Boosh," well, I have a treat for you.
I'm Old Gregg!!!
Sorry. I think that's out of my system. See, I was first introduced to Old Gregg by my wife. Yep, she's a strange one. I don't know if she found a clip on Youtube, or if someone first showed her, but either way, Old Gregg came into our lives.
However, we don't have television. Thank goodness for the interwebs. Adultswim.com posts full episodes online, and The Mighty Boosh is among them. And this weeks addition? That's right. The Legend of Old Gregg (aka Old Gregg the Funky Merman). And where can you find it? Why, right here, silly.
And you say I never do anything for you.
Again, a PARENTAL ADVISORY. Old Gregg could be considered a hermaphrodite. He discusses it rather bluntly. Old Gregg has The Funk and offers to make Howard Moon a Funk Shake, but much like a cow, you have to milk The Funk, and that involves the same parts as milking a cow. This is also discussed rather bluntly. Oh, and this is a very, very weird show. Viewers beware.
Those more astute readers will recall my post last week about me hitting a werewolf with our car. Time for a happy little update.
We hit said werewolf on Sunday, July 5. We called in to our insurance and multiple repair shops here in Logan on the 6th. Our insurance told us that we needed to wait for a claims adjuster before we took it in anywhere, and that he would be here by the 9th.
So, when we still hadn't heard anything on the 9th, I called our insurance back. Guess what? Because we live "so far away from civilization" we could just pick a shop, have them write an estimate, and in about 24 hours, the work could be started.
So, on the 9th, we picked our shop. Took the car up to Preston and dropped it off. Gave the shop all the insurance information, told them to fax in an estimate, and spent the rest of the weekend riding around on our bikes.
Good thing we have a trailer for T.
Yesterday, I realized that I didn't have an estimate from the shop for how long the repairs would take. This poses a problem because we have plans to go to Spokane for C.'s grandparent's 50th anniversary, and then on to the Oregon coast to spend a few days with family there.
So, I called up the shop. Yesterday. July 14th. Five days after bringing the car in. Nine days after killing a werewolf. And guess what? No repairs had started because they hadn't gotten the authorization from the insurance people. No authorization was given because they hadn't faxed in an estimate. I love people.
So yesterday, at 12:05 pm the fax showed up at the insurance guys office. Now, we have to wait another 24 hours before he can pass that on to some other guy, who will actually approve the charges.
Still no car repairs started. And we are supposed to leave for Oregon on the 26th. So, aside from choking out an insurance agent and a repair shop owner, what am I to do, other than continue to pedal my little heart our around the city of Logan? Here's hoping for the quickest repairs ever.
Ah, the Email Forward. Is there anything funnier? More hilarious? Well, yes. There's the people who send them. And I'm not talking about people who send one every once in a while. I'm talking about the people who send them religiously.
If you like I'm talking about you, I probably am.
Now, I enjoy fifty different pictures of cats wearing clothing every much the same as the next guy. I'm not even saying that people who forward stuff to me should stop completely. What I am saying it to take notice of what you send.
Use your brain.
For example. Hotmail, Yahoo, MSN, Friendster, AOL, Facebook, Tagged, and YouTube are not going to magically change their user agreement that you signed to shut down your account if you don't forward an email to 15/20/50 people. They won't do it. I promise.
Next point. As you may or may not know, I'm a veteren. Yes, that's what makes me a little off at times. So I'm all about you sending me some patriotic emails when you come across them. However, you shouldn't send me the same one over and over and over. Keep track of the emails of Real American Heros that you send. If you email me about the death of a Vietnam veteren who dies the same time as a Senator from Wyoming, you shouldn't email me a year later and tell me that he died again on the same day as Michael Jackson.
Might I make a quick suggestion.
Snopes.com. It's amazing. Don't send on garbage. However, maybe it's just that I'm so sceptical by nature. Maybe it's all the philosophy classes that I've taken, or the fact that I like the kind of people that rethink history and are hesitant to believe everything they're told. Maybe I just care about things that don't matter. Either way, you should look up what you are sending so that you don't send out a bunch of crap.
There. That's enough of a soap box for today. Now go back and watch all 40 of those Real Men of Genius commercials. It's worth it.
Over the weekend, I got to work a grave shift Normally, not one of my favorite things to do. It throws off my sleep schedule, and turns me into a zombie for the entire next day.
Well, this one did that, too, who am I kidding. But there was a silver lining.
I had heard about the film Taking Chance from a few different sources on the interwebs. When I had gone to the redbox earlier in the day, and it had been there, I decided to rent it. After all, I had to stay awake during the night, so I might as well watch a movie to take a break from pretending to study for the GRE.
This movie was awesome. So awesome that I had to tell everyone at work about it. So awesome that I didn't return it and made C. watch it with me Saturday night. So awesome that I was fighting back tears. Twice. And I'm an emotionless machine.
Quick Film Summary: Chance Phelps was a Marine Corporal who died in Iraq. Whenever someone dies in Iraq, they ship their remains back home, and once they reach the states, they are escorted by another member of the armed forces. Lieutenant Colonial Michael Strobl was his escort, and he wrote about his experiences transporting Chance. It isn't pro war. It isn't anti war. But it shows the support our troops get when they cross the country.
Watch it. Spread the word. Don't be an emotionless robot.
Word of caution for younger readers/parents: This movie isn't rated. It wouldn't be rated G. However, I don't think it would be anything more that PG-13 for some language that is used when one of the Sergents who was there when Phelps dies is retelling the story. Isolated incidents. And there is nothing gruesome about the film. It is very tastefully done.
No, I had never heard of the band or the song before I stumbled upon this music video. No, I can't understand any of the lyrics. What I do understand, however, is the amount of work and planning that must have gone into planning and execution of this music video. It is amazing. You might have to watch it a couple of times to catch everything, I know I did. So, I present to you 'Hibi no Neiro (Tone of Everyday) by Sour. Happy Weekend!
Today, for whatever reason, I don't really want to post anything. So, rather than write and ramble until something comes, I'll just leave you with this and call it good.
Short and sweet, just like a brownie sundae. You're welcome.
I know that this isn't really the forum where I should be confessing my shortcomings, but then again, sometimes when you just need to get things off of your chest, there is no better location than the interwebs.
Even if all five people who read this blog know who I am.
This is really hard for me to come out and just say, so maybe I will explain the circumstances behind it. Maybe then it will be easier.
Yesterday, C. was at work and I was enjoying my time home watching T. We had been playing catch with her Princess Ball (don't judge me) and it was time for us to do the dishes.
You know, to make the house look nice since my wife was slaving away earning money to repair our werewolf damaged car.
I had my computer on, and I could tell that T. wanted to listen to some music. So we went to Pandora, which for those of you who don't know, is one of the coolest sites on the inter-webs. Then it happened. Rather than listening to one of my channels that I'd already created, baby and I decided that we should create a new one.
Enough. I'll just come out and say it.
T. and I listened to Jay-Z Radio while we were cleaning up the kitchen. And I enjoyed it, too.
Maybe it's because I live such a hardcore thug life. Maybe it's because I know what he means when he samples the children of Annie singing about it being a 'hard knock life.' Maybe it's because it makes me laugh to think that 2Pac and Notorious B.I.G. would be placed together on the same channel when they hated each other more than anything while they were alive. Whatever the reason, I like Jay-Z.
There, I said it. Now can we at least still be friends?
Yesterday I posted about this past weekend. I did that because this is a blog, and everyone always wants to know what is going on in my life at any moment.
I'm important like that.
While I was at the in-laws on Sunday, we talked about what we always talk about: politics. It always starts when I talk with my sister-out-law. Then, everyone comes down and wants to participate.
I'm a trendsetter.
One of the reasons that we always talk about this, at least in my opinion, is because I married into a smart family. Like many people, they think that the two party political system is broken, but they actually want to do something about it. Another thing that my sister-out-law and I think is important is to be able to see all sides of an issue. I think it's important to know what you believe and why you believe it.
Which brings me to Co-G.
For those of you who don't know, Co-G is one of the smartest people that I know. Whenever he posts his blogs, I have to focus because it's not just brain fluff like I post here.
Dude's a genius.
Anyway, yesterday he asked me what exactly I was, politically. Am I Democrat/Republican/Libertarian/Green/Communist? My first response, at least in my mind, was that I didn't have to tell anyone. That's what great about being American. But then again, I don't mind telling people what I believe. Like the other billions of people on the interwebs, my opinions matter. So, brace yourself.
When I consider what I am politically, I like to pride myself on no being affiliated one way or the other. I like to believe that I'm what one could call an informed voter. Being able to see all sides of an issue help me to focus on the issues that matter most. Iraq, abortion, taxes, green energy, gay marriage. All of it doesn't matter.
Here's why it doesn't matter.
If you believe one way or another, and are capable of carrying on an intelligent conversation, then even if you believe differently than someone else, you can make a coherent argument. However, if you only believe one way because 'my parents both feel that way' then you deserve to be punched in the back of your narrow minded brain.
What am I? I'm informed. In the last election, I voted for two democrats, about four republicans, one member of the constitution party, and one libertarian. But it wasn't because they had the coolest name. It was because I looked into the candidates and what they believed, and voted for them. If I agreed with the platform of a communist candidate, I would vote for them, too.
Be informed. Do it. It will either help you care more about politics or hate they system entirely and make you completely apathetic towards politics.
How was your 4th? Good I hope. Well, because adventure is everything, allow me to recap mine.
8:00-Got to work. After working a 12 hour shift the day before. The day actually started off swell. The kids decided on their own to work on treatment while breakfast was being prepared. 9:15-Eating a hearty breakfast of fried eggs and an English Muffin. The kids are talking about who is going to clean what in the facility. This looks good. 9:50-Apparently it takes five kids to clean one room. Well, it takes one kid to vacuum, one to wash the walls, one to run around, one to crawl on the floor and point out the spots that were missed with the vacuum, and one to stand there holding a roll of paper towels. 10:30-Still working on that room. 11:00-Still... 11:45-That room is finally finished. So is every other chore. Oh well. I go off to prepare an awesome lunch of roast beef hoagies. 11:50-A 17 year old just pooped his pants in front of me. In other news, Patrick decides at this point that it wouldn't hurt to look more actively for a new job. 12:30-Lunch 2:00ish-We watch an episode of Planet Earth. Stupid Walri (Walri must be plural for walrus. I like it more than 'walruses'). 4:00-Time to go home. I've only worked 21 of the last 28 hours. 4:45-Head up to Idaho Falls for the fireworks. 9:00ish-see my favorite blog stalker (blalker?) in the 5 mile long line for the port-a-potties. She is obviously too overcome with excitement to approach me, but she does talk with C. for a bit. 10:00-BOOM! 12:30-Sleep Sunday, 4:00-Have a long conversation with my in-laws and out-laws about how I may or may not be a socialist/fascist/anarchist/communist. 6:00-My sister-in-law reassures my father in law that I am not, in fact, a communist. Fast forward to about 10:30 last night, when we hit what must be a werewolf on the highway while driving home. We stop, and there is oil leaking like crazy. We stop again, and there is still oil leaking. We get home safely, park the car, go out again this morning, and the oil is still leaking. Needless to say, I'm off to see how much that stupid werewolf is going to cost me to repair my car.
As promised, I present to you part three of our saga. The Mars Volta was the more afro'd part of At The Drive-In. Some would call their music crazy weird. I would agree. But that doesn't make them not able to rock out crazy hard. Now, as a warning, they are the type of band that you either love or hate. But, if you hate them, they you need to listen to them more. I can sit down and listen to the seamless flowing from track to track. Their music is busy, and you have to pay attention to everything that is going on. That having been said, I present to you Inertiatic Esp by The Mars Volta. Enjoy, and Happy 4th of July Weekend!
Today's post is going to be a venting post. But, to protect feelings of inadequacy in those who I may or may not be ranting about, I'm going to keep it pretty vague.
Now, I'm the type of person who likes to plan things out. I don't know why, but I like to know what is coming next. Remember, I don't graduate until December, but I've been looking into graduate schools for over a year. I've even been looking at what jobs are out there for after I finish my three year graduate program. I just like to know what's next.
So, obviously, one of the things that causes me little fits is when I think I know what is going to happen next and those plans get changed. Now my organized little brain is scrambling around trying to figure out what it can do to gain at least a little bit of control over a situation that in all actuality, it has absolutely none over.
My wife, and possibly others out there, think that I can just roll with the punches. And while it looks like I can, trust me, on the inside I'm freaking out.
One more thing. People need to take more responsibility for their own lives. This one, I guess, can be less vague. At work, I am in charge of the scheduling for the next week. It is not my job to find someone to work for people if they have requested time off. It is their responsibility to do that. However, just about every week, it seems like there is some time off requested and nobody to cover it, and I end up being the one to call around and get their shift filled.
Maybe I'm just fed up with it. Maybe I will not get it covered for them in the future and they can get written up for abandonment.
But more likely, I'll continue to be the nice guy and get their shifts covered.
Every now and then, something happens in this country that brings people together in ways that were never thought possible. The bombing of Pearl Harbor, the assassination of JFK, 9-11. And now, thanks to ABC, there is one more thing to bring us closer as a nation.
I'm talking about Wipeout.
For those of you who have been living under a rock the past two summers, allow me to explain. 24 people start out by trying to run as fast as they can through an obstacle course. The course may or may not involve mud, a wall that punches people, zip lines, or rotating platforms. It always involves giant red balls that people have to walk across.
That rarely ends up good, unless you're the television audience.
Call it what you will. Schadenfreude sounds good to me. Either way, not only does ABC broadcast this show weekly during the summer, they also post it up on their full episode player on their website. So, if you're like me and don't have television, you can still participate in this national treasure.
And really, you should.
And as an end to this post, I'd just like to give a Happy Canada Day shout out to all my Canadian homies! Rock it!
So, for those of you who don't know, I was pulled over a couple of weeks ago for "Failure to Stop at a Stop Sign." As T., C. and I were driving through Paradise, UT, which is literally a one stop sign town, we missed the only stop sign there.
I don't mean we ran through it, I mean that it was so faded to white that we didn't see it at all.
So, yesterday was the magical "traffic court" day. I went in with the idea that we could pay for the ticket, but knew that I had a pretty good shot of beating it. First of all, the sign was faded to white. Second of all, and I can't stress this enough, we took pictures of the faded to white sign. Those pictures cost us $0.49 to develop. The ticket would have cost us $95, and would have put points on my driving record. Lastly, I had never driven through Paradise before, so I didn't know that there would magically be a stop sign on the highway. So, gathering up my evidence, I went to the county court for my appearance before the judge.
After going the the metal detector and finding the right courtroom, I noticed that there were a lot of people just waiting outside. I figured that this was my clue to wait outside, too. I was wrong. I should have just walked into the courtroom. But everything worked out. By the time I went inside, I had to meet with "the prosecutor."
I told him my story, and showed him the photographs. Oddly enough, he agreed. He said something along the lines of "let me see what I can do" and then turned to this giant book that was on the table next to him. I can only assume it was "Baby's First Book Of Traffic Laws." After only a few minutes, he said "Yup, I'm convinced. I'm going to throw this out. And we'll call someone about replacing that sign."
That is when the choirs of angels started singing.
I still had to wait for the judge to show up so that he could officially throw the case out, but half an hour after the whole thing was supposed to start, I was strolling out of the court without being any poorer than I already am.
Moral of the story: always be willing to take your wife to remote locations to take pictures. She will then have her camera with her to take pictures of the faded-to-white stop signs that you will inevitably run.
I guess it had to happen sooner or later. I, like much of the interwebs, had to post about the most important news events of the day.
No, I'm not talking about the death of Ed McMahon/Farrah Fawcett/Michael Jackson/Billy Mays. No, I'm not talking about Mariano Rivera getting both his 500th career save and 1st RBI last night. No, I'm not talking about the Waxman-Markey bill (sorry Co-G). I'm not even talking about how the oldest living Medal of Honor reciepient just turned 100 (and apparently told death to stay off his lawn and stop making all that racket). This is potentially more important than all of those things.
Potentially. But only if you care about people.
A man in Preston, England got stuck in an elevator. Twice. He was trapped for about 30 minutes. He had a bicycle with him. End of news story. Really.
Now that is what I call concise reporting.
But at what point, after getting stuck in one elevator would you decide to ride the same elevator again. And now that he's been stuck twice, does he keep riding? These are all important questions that the general public demands answers to. So, Lancashire Evening Post, we demand follow up. Please, keep us posted. It's the right thing to do.
This is where I'm supposed to give my shout out to Michael Jackson. Um, no. Thanks, though. I'm not like that. Last week, I posted a song by the now broken up band At The Drive-In. While have been known to lament the loss to my wife, it is a bittersweet feeling. You see, they broke up into two bands, the first of which I'm posting this week, the second one will be next weeks song. So, for this week, I present Cut Your Ribbon by Sparta. This is the first song off their debut CD, and it makes me want to turn up the volume every time I hear the drum intro. I recommend you do the same. Happy Weekend!
So, I know there's a lot (kind of) going on in the sports world. It's Wimbledon, the College World Series, both the NHL and NBA drafts are upon us, and baseball season is in full swing.
But sweet merciful soccer playing heaven, did you see/hear about/read about/pray for the U.S. Men's Soccer team yesterday?
Right now in soccer-world, it's the Confederation's Cup. The U.S made it to the semifinals. That should be a shock enough. But that's not all. They beat Spain. The U.S. is going to the finals.
Let me reiterate. The U.S. beat Spain. Spain is/was the worlds top ranked team. The U.S. beat them 2-0. This is the first FIFA final that the U.S. men have made it to since 1916. Spain hadn't lost since November 2006. Spain outshot the U.S. 29-9? Oh, and did I mention that the U.S. lost the first two games of the tournament? Or that they were ranked 14th going in? Or that they were 1-7-1 all time when going against the number one team?
This is David and Goliath stuff.
So, while I wish I could celebrate the soccer equivalent of the Clippers shutting out the Lakers, I have to be realistic. There has to be a reason that the U.S. won. That reason has to be robots.
I'm fairly convinced that a) the U.S. goal keeper is a robot and that is why he was able to stop 29 shots on goal, of b) the Spanish team is robots, and they all passed their warranty, and they malfunctioned during the game.
A word of warning: this post is all about the genius of my little girl. So, if you don't want to read about the life of a one year old, i.e. you have no heart and would kill a unicorn if given the opportunity, then this post is not for you.
Also, you'd be a communist.
For T.'s birthday, her awesome dad got her a Little People farm set. Complete with farmer, pig, horse, cow, sheep, and chicken. Her aunt also got her a little people set that had a panda, a giraffe, and a llama.
How sweet is a Fisher Price llama?
Anyway, we play with that farm a lot. If you open the doors, then it makes different sounds. And it has been a good way for T. to learn how to make animal sounds. So when you ask her what an animal says, this is her reply:
Sheep - 'Baa'
Horse - 'Baaaa'
Cow - 'Baa?'
Pig - 'Baa baa'
Chicken - 'Ba Ba Ba'
Panda - 'BAAAA' (very loud)
Giraffe - *Dumbfounded look
But my personal favorite is that C. taught her what a llama says. Whenever you ask her, the llama sticks out her tongue over and over. Funniest thing you'll see this month, I promise. Also, cool, a fish opens and closes her mouth over and over without making any noise.
You have to see it.
So, I'm willing to take this traveling show on the road. You pay for airfare and booking fees, and we'll be in a town near you. Who wouldn't want to see the cuteness of my little girl?
Ladies and Gentlemen, today I would like to take the time to talk with you about an epidemic that is sweeping the world. This is more serious that Swine Flu (but then again, so is the climbing number of attacks from laser sharks), more deadly than Monkey Pox, more realistic than Swine Pox, less made up on the spot than Monkey Flu, and more annoying than people who can't tell the difference between 'your' and 'you're.'
Seriously, if you can't tell the difference and are older than 12, kill yourself.
I'm talking about the rampant spreading, much like a virus, of Facebook quizzes. Facebook was created for four reasons: to reconnect with old friends, to make friends with people you never liked in high school as a way to try and be less of a douche, to stalk that cute girl via her pictures, and to create awkward situations when you don't accept your bosses' friend request.
Is there anything more strange than seeing a request from your boss?
But quizzes bring Facebook to an all time low. 'What College Do You Belong To?' 'What Would You Be In The Star Wars Universe?' 'What Decade Fits Your Personality Best?' 'How Many Kids Will You Have?' 'Which Disney Girl Are You?' 'What Stereotype Do You Fit?' As I type this post, my friends have decided to let me know via my news post the answer to those serious questions.
And that's just in the last 6 hours. When a majority of people are sleeping. That sucks when you can be infected in your sleep.
Now, I'm not saying that you can't take quizzes. I'm sure it's important to see what your 'True Theater Calling' is. Just don't post them to my news feed. Please. For the good of humanity. But I've got to run. I need to go and take a quiz to find out 'Are You A Potato?'
There are some times when you are driving that you can't make up for your own stupidity. Take for example that time that you were driving down the road and came to a car going the other direction. Then, they flashed their brights at you and you realized that you never dimmed your headlights.
It's not like you can chase them down to admit your own foolishness. That would just make you come across as crazy.
So, we admit our own faults and learn to deal with them. There is no way to apologize for most of our driving ignorance. Unless you have a blog. Then you can post it and hope upon hope that one day the person you slighted comes across it. This is one of those cases, however, like most things, it's not all my fault.
Dear person who I followed from halfway through Sardine Canyon to Logan, I'm sorry that we were following so closely. And, when it looked like we were going to pass you but didn't, there really was a good reason for that. No, I wasn't trying to have a race with your minivan at 15 mph over the posted speed limit. No, my baby wasn't vomiting up green chunks or rotating her head 360 degrees. No, we didn't really need to use the facilities and have a fear of pooping in public places ('triple p' for future reference)
We just wanted to see what movie your kids were watching in the back on your flip down DVD player.
This was important. I can't tell you why, but both my wife and I had an overwhelming urge to find out what was on. I promise we weren't stalking your family. Please forgive my insolence. Or, buy a bigger screen. Then it won't take as long to figure out.
This week's video taught me a few things. First, your lyrics do not need to make any sense whatsoever. Second, more bands need to go back to having giant afros. Third, it will always be good memories to cram about 10 of your army friends into a CHU (Combat Housing Unit) and going crazy while you blast this song. Always. I present to you "One Armed Scissor" by At the Drive-In. Happy Weekend!
Rather than post some boring facts about myself and what I've been up to, I decided that everyone needs to learn some facts about Polar Bears. Besides, you can only post so many times about studying for the GRE before your mind dwindles down to nothing.
-The polar bear is the world's largest land predators. They can be found in the Artic, the U.S. (Alaska), Canada, Russia, Denmark (Greenland), and Norway. Each of these countries either banned hunting or established rules for how many polar bears could be hunted within its own boundaries. These rules help keep polar bear populations stable. Today, 25,000 to 40,000 polar bears roam the Arctic.
- Baby polar bears are much smaller than human babies when they're born. They are the size of a rat and weigh little more than a pound. They can grow to full man size in a year if they have lots of food.
- Polar bear babies like to pretend like they can crawl up stairs, but really only put their arms on the landing and then thrust themselves up. They can only do this on the landing, and as of yet, cannot make it up more stairs.
-Male polar bears may grow 10 feet tall and weigh over 1400 pounds. Females reach seven feet and weigh 650 pounds. In the wild polar bears live up to age 25.
- If a polar bear was pulled over on Sunday afternoon in Paradise, UT for running a stop sign, not only would they not get a ticket, but they would eat the Sheriff's face off.
- Despite what we think, a polar bear's fur is not white. Each hair is clear hollow tube. Polar bears look white because each hollow hair reflects the light. On sunny days, it traps the sun's infrared heat and keeps the bear warm at 98 degrees F (when they're resting). Also, Polar bear fur is oily and water repellent. The hairs don't mat when wet, allowing the polar bears to easily shake free of water and any ice that may form after swimming.
- Not only do polar bears not have to study for the GRE, they don't even need to apply to Graduate School. Much like Chuck Norris, if they want to attend further education, schools just beg them to come.
- Polar bears have been known to swim 100 miles (161 kilometers) at a stretch.
- When polar bear wives need a new job to save their sanity, they get one, generally at a framing shop. Also, they eat their former boss.
- Polar bears have wide front paws with slightly webbed toes that help them swim. They paddle with their front feet and steer with their hind feet. Paw pads with rough surfaces help prevent polar bears from slipping up on the ice.
So there you have it. Who knew that the polar bear was such a fascinating creature?
Muggle - n. In the fiction of J.K. Rowling: a person who possesses no magical powers. Hence in allusive and extended uses: a person who lacks a particular skill or skills, or who is regarded as inferior in some way.
Blamestorming - n. A method of collectively finding one to blame for a mistake no one is willing to confess to. Often occurs in the form of a meeting of colleagues at work, gathered to decide who is to blame for a screw up.
Gaydar - n. A homosexual person's ability to identify another person as homosexual by interpreting subtle signals conveyed by their appearance, interests, etc.
Grrrl - n. A young woman regarded as independent and strong or agressive, especially in her attitude to men or in her sexuality.
Threequel - n. The third film, book, event, etc. in a series; a second sequel.
Mini-me - n. A person closely resembling a smaller or younger version of another.
Screenager - n. A person in their teens or twenties who has an aptitude for computers and the Internet.
Cyberslacking - v. Spending one's employer's Internet and email facilities for personal activities during working hours.
Lookism - n. Prejudice or discrimination on the grounds of apperance.
Frankenfood - n. Derogatory. A food that contains genetically modified ingredients.
Riffage - n. Guitar riffs.
Bouncebackability - n. The ability to recover from near-defeat in a competition; the ability to recover from a setback.
Prebuttal - n. A rebuttal for an accusation before it is made.
Ego-surfing - v. Searching the Internet for instances of one's own name or links to one's own website.
Meatspace - n. The physical world, as opposed to virtual.
What do all of these words have in common? Simple. They have all been recently added to the Oxford English Dictionary. Heaven help us all.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, the LG Venus from Verizon Wireless. Featuring a pretty nifty camera for a cell phone, a touch screen on the lower 1/3 of the face, and an opportunity to go to your local Verizon dealer every three to six months.
I speak from experience.
My journey with this phone first began around Christmas time of 2007. My old phone was exactly that, old. It wasn't quite the brick of justice, but it would sure hold a charge for literally dozens of minutes. Maybe that's an exaggeration.
But 6 hours isn't.
So, like most of the public, I was duped into believing that every two years I needed a new phone. And, just at that time, there were these neat-o-keen television commercials that featured dancing silhouettes rocking out while they talked on the phone, texted, and generally lived a much cooler life than I was leading with my Star Trek communicator flip phone.
So, I went to the store and got the Venus. All was right with the world. Until about March. About then, the phone decided that texting anything more than a three letter response to someone was bunk. People just shouldn't do that. Oh, and I was down in Salt Lake when this happened. I sent a lot of 'yup,' 'yep' and 'nah'. So I took it into the store, and they said it was a 'software update' problem.
I didn't get the update.
So, they updated my phone, and sent me on my merry little way. Until about October. About then, my phone died. Straight up committed suicide. At least that's what the coroner ruled. And the poor thing was living such a tragic life that it didn't even leave a note.
What was I supposed to tell the children?
Luckily, the phone was still under warranty, so they replaced it for free. But then, again this March, the phone did that stupid text thing. Again a quick fix. But tonight, tonight was something special.
My battery decided that living was dumb.
It was fine. It was charged. I didn't drop the phone. Not in water, not on the floor, not in the mud on a driving adventure. When I plugged the phone in, it said that it was fully charged. When I unplugged it, the screen went black. Not even powering off.
I was being shunned by my phone.
So, long story short, we trekked into the Verizon store, and they didn't have the battery in stock. So, I'm now phoneless. I don't now how I feel about that. They are mailing me a new battery, and it should be here Thursday. We'll see how I survive without a phone. Wish me luck.
So, as you may or may not know, I am preparing to take the GRE at the end of the summer. This means that while I am not enrolled in any classes, my brain is still mush. Also, on top of studying every time I can tear myself away from the Playstation, I am also researching grad schools.
I'm cool like that.
But the thing is, there are a few options. Let me explain. For those of you who are unaware, I am wanting to go to school after a dual master's degree in History and Library Science. That way, I can work at some archives or at a university library somewhere and hide away from sunlight and human interaction. After having talked it over, C. and I decided that we should apply to four grad schools, just to cover our bases. My first choice, and one that I am definetly applying to, is Indiana University. Cost of living is similar to Logan, both programs are ranked in the top 25 nationwide, and my Advisor just sent another kid from USU there, and is willing to help me get into the program, too.
Second choice is the University of Maryland. Both programs there are also nationally ranked, plus, they have a lot of internship opportunities in Washington at the Library of Congress and the National History Museum. I'm a nerd like that.
However, the next two choices are fuzzy. There are only a few different Universities that offer the dual master's, so we narrowed it down. Cost wise, the other three are about the same. Cost of living is a bit different, but we figure we will be living on student loans anyway. So now, I turn it over to you. Your first question:
But even with one of those, it only leaves us with three applications. For our last one, since I really want the Library Science degree, it made it easier than trying to narrow down a history program. We also thought, well, if we're not doing the dual program, we can stay a bit closer to home and family. So, we looked at all the programs that were in the west. There were only seven. So now, assuming that I can get into all of these, where should I apply for just the Library Science program?
Thanks. Now, tell your friends. Tell them to tell their friends. I need opinions. And feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you voted for and why.
For this week, I present to you Tokyo Police Club. "Tessellate" is a gut wrenching tale of a school fight and the control room that rages inside each of us. Or something. Mostly, this song has what Strongbad would call "the claps." It makes me happy. Enjoy!
I work at a very emotionally intense place. For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, check out our ever so professionally done website here. Most of the people I work with are heavily invested in their jobs. Therapists, Clinical Directors, Program Directors, Supervisors and "Line Staff" all spend their days hoping for some sign of change brought about in the lives of the youth we serve. It can be hard work, so every time we get an escape, we take it. Generally, that escape comes in the same form.
Fantasy Sports.
Every year that I have worked there, the Clinical Director has set up a Fantasy Football (read: Basketball, Baseball) league and invited people to play. Again, that email invitation has come. Again, I have accepted it.
But it's important to remember where we work.
Because of the population of the individuals with whom we associate, we find ourselves looking for the dirtiest clean names that you can find. And part of the fun is finding a picture for your team logo. And this year, I found the perfect mascot.
Hence the Grandpa Huxtable looking character at the top of this post with the three dachshunds hanging out of the neck of his clothing. I'll give you a moment. It really shouldn't take long.
That's right: Sweater Puppies.
So, this year, you are looking at the proud owner of the South Virginia Sweater Puppies. How big a deal is this? Well, our draft isn't scheduled until August 14. I guess this is just our way to prepare for the long escape.
I literally have nothing to post about. My self imposed 10:00 posting time is looming ever closer, yet all I have are bits and pieces or randomness, none of which would constitute a full post. For example:
My friend Co-G posted about debt slavery. I like slavery (the topic, not the practice) but I don't want to bore people.
The Magic beat the Lakers last night. Set the record for field goal percentage in the finals, yet barely hung on to win. Also, the Penguins won last night forcing a game seven back in Detroit.
T. woke up around 4 this morning and I held her in the chair in her room until about 4:45. Normally, I would be pissed if someone woke me up that early, but I kind of just deal with it when it's her.
I have been reading a lot of webcomics lately. I don't know why, but I feel like I'm more individual if I do. None of that Garfield or Peanuts. It's like it something that's just for me even though I know it's not.
Why is it that some of the people who are on Facebook don't realize that when they take a quiz or something, they can just skip to their results. They don't really have to request that 5 of their friends take the same stupid quiz. And I really don't have to be one of those friends.
Pandora Music rules.
I like to eat leftover pizza for breakfast. But I don't like to warm up leftover pizza. It has to be cold. Am I the only one?
See, no coherent blog post in there. Just a bunch of random, empty brained fluff. And now, it's all yours! You are welcome. And sorry this post just didn't have any zing. Tomorrow, I vow to do better.
What better way to recount yesterday's two main adventures than by sharing with you the cold hard facts.
Adventure One: 5 - The number of passengers in my car when we decided to go get ice cream. 3:2 - The ratio of regular cones to kiddie cones that we ordered from the drive-thru. 4 - The number of times that I heard the grumbly voice on the other fumble as he repeated back my order. 2, 16 - The numbers in dollars and cents that my order came to. 1 - The number of the window where the grumbly voice told me to pull forward to so that I could pay. 1- The actual number of windows at the restaurant. 8 - Time, in minutes, that we waited until anyone came to the window. 6 - Cars waiting behind us while we waited for someone to bring us our ice cream. 11 - Total number of ice cream cones that I saw people make through the window that were not brought to us. 2 - Number of cones that were brought to us after our initial eight minute wait. 3 - Minutes we waited until the rest of our order (i.e. three more cones) came to the window. 0 - Words spoken to us by anyone who came to the window. 0.000245 - Time, in seconds, that it took the girl to slam the window on us, take her copy of the order receipt and throw it away. 0 - Amount, in dollars and cents that anyone asked us to pay for our ice cream. 7 - Times that my wife and I exchanged befuddled looks with each other. 30 - Time, in seconds, that we waited at the window, with nobody coming, until we decided that it must be free ice cream day. 47 - Times that my 12 year old sister-in-law repeated something about it must having been free ice cream day during our 5 minute drive home.
Adventure Two: 16.9 - Distance in miles from the South Blackfoot, Idaho exit on I-15 until the I-86 Westbound exit. 2 - Number of lanes traveling Southbound on that stretch of highway. 2 - Number of Semi-trucks that it takes to clog that stretch of highway. 75 - Posted speed limit on I-15. 60 - Average speed of the two semis that were blocking the reset of traffic. 46,239 - Exact number of times that you can mumble curse words under your breath so that your wife doesn't hear you. 6 - Times that it seriously looked like one of the trucks was going to pass the other. 457 - Ways that I envisioned a horrible car accident involving both drivers. 1 - Cars that caught up to us and had to endure the same torture of us. 329 - Times that I wished I was back in a certain Middle Eastern Country so that I could have a machine gun mounted to the top of my vehicle. 50 - Caliber of weapon that I wished it was. 16 - Miles that the trucks traveled until one of them passed the other. 15 - Time in seconds that it took me to pass the trucks when they finally made it possible. 1 each - Number of fingers that I extended out of our sunroof and directed towards the trucks.
For a few reasons. First of all, we are at my in-laws place to see our new nephew. L. was born Friday. Nothing like a newborn to remind you how much your own child has grown in a year.
Second, I am trying to juggle posting this with entertaining T. with a Sterilite full of grandma's toys. Hooray for Little People!
Last of all, I left my happy lappy at home so I am writing this all on my iPod touch. So there's that. Isn't technology awesome?
Anyway, short and sweet is always a good thing, right? So I leave you with this: Tacos Rule.
One last story about visiting my folks and then, I promise I'll get back to the really important job of complaining/rambling incoherently about the general stupidity of humankind. Now, while I was down there, the night of our Birth-iversary party, my uncle got sent to the store, and he volunteered me to go with him. Not that I minded very much. After all, my uncle is only about a year and a half older than me. How is that possible?
Well, we are Mormon...
Anyway, our trip back from the grocery store took longer than people expected it to. They asked if I was going to blog about it. I told them sure. So here it goes: We went to the store. We went too far east while heading back from the store before we turned north. We got stuck at a light. Then we made it back.
Thrilling, huh.
But yesterday morning is when the really earth shattering discoveries were made. My aunt and uncle came over to my parents house for breakfast. My wife had made some pancakes. We ate them. Then, my aunt decided that she was going to make some more. I like food, so I was all for it. But then the unthinkable happened. She started pouring the batter onto the griddle, but there was hardly any coming out. These pancakes were entirely too small. Forget 'I Stayed At The Holiday Inn And Am Eating Their Complimentary Breakfast' pancakes, forget 'We Are Out Of Batter And This Is The Last Pancake' size pancakes, she was making 'I Recently Took Communion For The First Time And Am Comfortable With Food The Size Of Wafers' size pancakes.
Seriously, T. took one look at those pancake and scoffed.
But that's when inspiration struck. People do not want little pancakes. In a society where we get super duper Big Gulps and jumbo size our fries, we don't even want regular size pancakes. What we need now is Mancakes. Pancakes for the human garbage disposal in all of us. Pancakes that are so big that you can only cook one at a time on a camp griddle. And when you are at a restaurant, no more of those dainty cups full of a tablespoon of syrup. We need our own carafe just for the syrup. That'll give you a sugar high that will counteract the sleepy-time effects that a Mancake will give to the population at large.
So, we're still at my parents' house this morning. These past few days have been good. I have been able to catch up with my grandpa, aunt and uncle from Arizona. Last night was the Birth-iversary party. Was it good? Well, there was food. So, that's always a plus. I'm sure that C. will be posting some cupcake pictures soon. But being 'home again' has given me time to think.
I was an awesome kid.
One of the reasons that I was awesome was because I was able to convince my parents to get a non-mammal pet. That's right, I had a turtle. But here's the deal. While it was only a little box turtle and it didn't make much of a mess, one of the things that I remember most was that for whatever reason, when we lived in 'The Big Red House,' that turtle held a prominant spot in the house.
We kept it in the living room.
No joke. Once we moved to Idaho, my parents had me keep it in my room, but until then, it sat just past the lamp in the tank above the little bookshelf. One of the reasons that I remember this is because one day, I had a friend over. This friend was holding my turtle. For whatever reason, they lifted my turtle over their head. Tim peed on them for a good solid 5 seconds before they made any move.
This turtle had attitude.
Once we moved, Tim kind of took a back seat in our house. He was moved to my room. Again, he sat on a bookshelf. This time, he was right by a window. And there, he lived out the rest of his little turtle days.
So, we're at my parents. It's our 3 year Anniversary and T. is 1 year old. All today. So, this post will be sappy. And directed towards the two most important people in my life. You all get to read it and suck it up.C: 3 years ago was the best day of my life. You became my wife. I have loved you more and more every day that we are together. You put up with a lot, and throughout all my constant ramblings about finances, school, and work, you still find a way to love me and make me feel like my little problems are the most important. You can always bring a smile to my face and there is nobody else who I would rather spend time with than you. I love you.T: I can't believe how fast this year has gone. When you came into our lives, we knew that nothing would ever be the same, but I never knew it would be this good. All the diapers, the feedings, the tears and screaming at 3 in the morning, the teething, the snotty noses. All of those are worth it when I get to look into your face and see you smile that wrinkly-nosed smile. I love you both more than a silly blog post will let you know. Thanks for letting me be a part of your lives. Happy Birth-iversary.
This blog will serve dual purposes. First, to let you know how awesome I am and what I did over the weekend. Second, it will serve as a way to give a third consecutive blog shout out to Norte.
Hooray Norte!
Anyway, this Saturday we all met at Norte's place for some Burgers, Victor Borge, and Valkyrie (B. V.B. & V.). The burgers were delicious. Norte has this sauce that, for lack of a better title, I will just call the sauce. It was amazing. It was sweet, yet had a little bit of kick.
The Sauce will rock your world.
Next, we watched a PBS special on Victor Borge. If you don't know who that is, then youtube that ness. Seriously. Here. I can wait. I recommend the Page Turner as well as Phonetic Punctuation. When I was growing up, my parents had a couple Victor Borge performances recorded off of PBS, so it was good to reminice about the happy times.
Yes, my childhood had happy times.
Finally, after a quick jaunt for some ice cream at Charlie's, we made it back to our place to watch Valkyrie. Remember, I am a student, husband, and parent. On top of that, I work full time. So, I know that this movie was released around Christmas, but now that it's on DVD, we could finally rent it and see it. The history nerd in me liked the movie. But, it had Tom Cruise, and he is what I like to call SuperCrazyOverTheTopPsychoNutsBatFlappingInsane. Overall, the movie was good. Not to give it away to anyone who hasn't seen it but is going to, but (SPOILER ALERT) Hitler survives their asassination attempt. However, one thing that bugged me was their accents.
They Weren't German.
You see, I took a few years of German in High School. I went there for a bit on a Student Exchange. I just finished my second year of German in college. If there's one thing I know, it's english spoken with a German accent. So, to get by without using crappy accents, they just didn't try. Tom Cruise spoke regularly. Most of the other Nazis spoke with a British accent. The only one that they tried to portray with a German accent was Hitler.
I guess they didn't want him to be anything but German.
As a side note, later on today, C., T. and I are headed south to my parents place for "180 Reasons to Celebrate." Tuesday will be T.'s first birthday. C. and I will have been married for 3 years. My aunt will be turning 30. My uncle, 47. And if my great-grandma were still alive, she would be turning 99. All on June 2. So, there may be a blog tomorrow, they may not. All I know is that I feel old.
But it's Dead Week, then Final's Week. I just want to let you all know of my pending return...
And yet...nobody knows about it.
Quit. Just quit. You're dead to us now.
Lady in the Water is 110 minutes of my life that I'm never getting back.
For those of you who have been living under a rock/don't think that music is the most important thing in the world/ might have what some people would consider "a life"/ don't think that spending $6,000 on a guitar is a worthwhile investment, this blog may not mean much.
Of course you did. But there's just a few items of housekeeping that I need to take care of.
So Sick...
You're in good hands...
So, the other day on USUPhilosophy.com they asked an interesting question. Basically, if you could have lunch with one philosopher, who would it be? Then they created a poll where you could chose from Plato, Kant, Wittgenstein, Heidegger, or Nietzche. 
Today is a very exciting day at the thePatrick household. No, I didn't get a new job *crosses fingers*. No, our car isn't yet out of the shop, although they have started the repairs. 
One of the things that I try to do, at least in my own little way, is try to make whatever few readers I have better people. 
Now, for those of you who are completely scared of the random merman looking seaweed hair having individual to left, consider your daily checkup of this blog finished. Seriously, move along. Nothing to read here.
Those more astute readers will recall my post last week about me hitting a werewolf with our car. Time for a happy little update. 
Ah, the Email Forward. Is there anything funnier? More hilarious? Well, yes. There's the people who send them. And I'm not talking about people who send one every once in a while. I'm talking about the people who send them religiously. 
Over the weekend, I got to work a grave shift Normally, not one of my favorite things to do. It throws off my sleep schedule, and turns me into a zombie for the entire next day.
Today, for whatever reason, I don't really want to post anything. So, rather than write and ramble until something comes, I'll just leave you with this and call it good.
I know that this isn't really the forum where I should be confessing my shortcomings, but then again, sometimes when you just need to get things off of your chest, there is no better location than the interwebs.
Yesterday I posted about this past weekend. I did that because this is a blog, and everyone always wants to know what is going on in my life at any moment.
How was your 4th? Good I hope. Well, because adventure is everything, allow me to recap mine.
Every now and then, something happens in this country that brings people together in ways that were never thought possible. The bombing of Pearl Harbor, the assassination of JFK, 9-11. And now, thanks to ABC, there is one more thing to bring us closer as a nation.
So, for those of you who don't know, I was pulled over a couple of weeks ago for "Failure to Stop at a Stop Sign." As T., C. and I were driving through Paradise, UT, which is literally a one stop sign town, we missed the only stop sign there. 
I guess it had to happen sooner or later. I, like much of the interwebs, had to post about the most important news events of the day.
So, I know there's a lot (kind of) going on in the sports world. It's Wimbledon, the College World Series, both the NHL and NBA drafts are upon us, and baseball season is in full swing.
A word of warning: this post is all about the genius of my little girl. So, if you don't want to read about the life of a one year old, i.e. you have no heart and would kill a unicorn if given the opportunity, then this post is not for you.
Ladies and Gentlemen, today I would like to take the time to talk with you about an epidemic that is sweeping the world. This is more serious that Swine Flu (but then again, so is the climbing number of attacks from laser sharks), more deadly than Monkey Pox, more realistic than Swine Pox, less made up on the spot than Monkey Flu, and more annoying than people who can't tell the difference between 'your' and 'you're.'
There are some times when you are driving that you can't make up for your own stupidity. Take for example that time that you were driving down the road and came to a car going the other direction. Then, they flashed their brights at you and you realized that you never dimmed your headlights.
Rather than post some boring facts about myself and what I've been up to, I decided that everyone needs to learn some facts about Polar Bears. Besides, you can only post so many times about studying for the GRE before your mind dwindles down to nothing.
Muggle - n. In the fiction of J.K. Rowling: a person who possesses no magical powers. Hence in allusive and extended uses: a person who lacks a particular skill or skills, or who is regarded as inferior in some way.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, the LG Venus from Verizon Wireless. Featuring a pretty nifty camera for a cell phone, a touch screen on the lower 1/3 of the face, and an opportunity to go to your local Verizon dealer every three to six months. 
So, as you may or may not know, I am preparing to take the GRE at the end of the summer. This means that while I am not enrolled in any classes, my brain is still mush. Also, on top of studying every time I can tear myself away from the Playstation, I am also researching grad schools. 
I work at a very emotionally intense place. For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, check out our ever so professionally done website here. Most of the people I work with are heavily invested in their jobs. Therapists, Clinical Directors, Program Directors, Supervisors and "Line Staff" all spend their days hoping for some sign of change brought about in the lives of the youth we serve. It can be hard work, so every time we get an escape, we take it. Generally, that escape comes in the same form.
I literally have nothing to post about. My self imposed 10:00 posting time is looming ever closer, yet all I have are bits and pieces or randomness, none of which would constitute a full post. For example:
What better way to recount yesterday's two main adventures than by sharing with you the cold hard facts.
Adventure Two:
One last story about visiting my folks and then, I promise I'll get back to the really important job of complaining/rambling incoherently about the general stupidity of humankind. Now, while I was down there, the night of our Birth-iversary party, my uncle got sent to the store, and he volunteered me to go with him. Not that I minded very much. After all, my uncle is only about a year and a half older than me. How is that possible?
So, we're still at my parents' house this morning. These past few days have been good. I have been able to catch up with my grandpa, aunt and uncle from Arizona. Last night was the Birth-iversary party. Was it good? Well, there was food. So, that's always a plus. I'm sure that C. will be posting some cupcake pictures soon. But being 'home again' has given me time to think.
C: 3 years ago was the best day of my life. You became my wife. I have loved you more and more every day that we are together. You put up with a lot, and throughout all my constant ramblings about finances, school, and work, you still find a way to love me and make me feel like my little problems are the most important. You can always bring a smile to my face and there is nobody else who I would rather spend time with than you. I love you.
T: I can't believe how fast this year has gone. When you came into our lives, we knew that nothing would ever be the same, but I never knew it would be this good. All the diapers, the feedings, the tears and screaming at 3 in the morning, the teething, the snotty noses. All of those are worth it when I get to look into your face and see you smile that wrinkly-nosed smile. 
I love you both more than a silly blog post will let you know. Thanks for letting me be a part of your lives. Happy Birth-iversary. 
This blog will serve dual purposes. First, to let you know how awesome I am and what I did over the weekend. Second, it will serve as a way to give a third consecutive blog shout out to Norte.
